


The Morning After

by rainbow_nerds



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_nerds/pseuds/rainbow_nerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based (very loosely) on the prompt from tumblr user grantere: I got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

Kurt woke up to a throbbing headache, his stomach churning, and the smell of bacon cooking. Slowly opening his eyes, he squinted around at the unfamiliar room he found himself in.

Fuck.

What happened last night?

He remembered being over at Santana’s apartment for drinks. She had offered him something of her own concoction, and pretty much everything was blurry after that. He didn't even remember leaving the apartment, but this definitely wasn't Santana’s room. There is no way she would have walls painted this shade of pink - at least, unless she had finally caved to letting Brittany decorate - and the bed sheets had some sort of comic book print on them that made him suspect he had somehow woken up in the room of a ten year old.

What the _fuck_ happened last night?

Kurt wasn't the type to go for casual sex. He could never reconcile himself with sharing something so intimate with a stranger, someone he may never see again. Just as the vague sense of panic began to settle in that he may have somehow wound up sleeping with someone without even remembering it, he became aware that he was fully clothed under the sheets. Weird. A voice came from down the hall, singing.

_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on_

_You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong_

_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down..._

Even though Kurt was still half asleep, and his head still felt like it had been bashed in with a mallet (or a train), he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sound. The voice was beautiful, like rich melted chocolate, or warm milk with honey on a cold day. The singing stopped and a second later, a head popped around the open door.

“Wake up, sleepyhead! Breakfast is ready!”

The man wore a lemon yellow polo shirt, with a pink spotted bow-tie, and it was somehow the cutest thing Kurt had ever seen. Despite the fact Kurt had no idea who this man was, or how he had ended up in what must have been his bed, he found himself smiling and crawling out of the bed as the head and shoulders vanished back into the kitchen. As he stumbled behind, Kurt caught a glimpse of himself in the bedroom mirror. His hair was all over the place, the product which had kept it in place the previous day now conspiring to make it impossible to tame, his clothes stretched and twisted from sleeping in them, and his face blotchy without his regular skincare regime. With nothing to rectify these problems, however, Kurt was forced to face this incredibly handsome man as he was.

The first thing Kurt noticed (apart from the heavenly scent coming from the grill) was the adorable way in which the man shimmied around as he cooked. He found his eyes drawn repeatedly to the perfectly formed, denim-clad ass as it moved along to the rhythm of the song playing. Before he could avert his eyes, the man turned around and presented him with a steaming hot bacon sandwich, but if he noticed where his eyes had been, he didn't seem to mind all that much.

“How did you sleep? I know the mattress is a bit lumpy, but hopefully it wasn't too awful and I left some extra blankets in case you woke up cold. Are you alright? You seem like you’re miles away, do you want a coffee or something?”

“Oh I... Yeah, I slept alright. I just…” He flushed, “I don’t really remember what happened last night, is all. And a Coffee would be great, thanks.”

Kurt took a bite out of his sandwich and groaned in satisfaction, as the other man began to speak, clearly embarrassed at his lack of thought.

“Oh I’m sorry! I should probably introduce myself! I’m Blaine, and I sort of… Found you laying in the corridor at 3 a.m. last night? You said something about being locked out, or kicked out or something, so I let you stay in my bed, while i took the couch. I hope that’s okay. If that was weird, or creepy I am so sorry and you have full permission to slap me, or call the cope, or whatever. You just looked so…” His voice faded off mid sentence and he coughed, embarrassed, as Kurt let out a soft giggle.

“Don’t worry, Blaine,” he found himself saying, “slapping you is the last thing  on my mind right now.”

The man - Blaine- quickly poured the coffee and sat down at the table opposite Kurt. They talked quietly as they ate, and Kurt was surprised to see how simple it was to hold a conversation with someone who’s bed he had just slept in, after being rescued from what was presumably being kicked out for Santana and Brittany to have some “Girl Time”. They spoke about work, Blaine describing life as an elementary school teacher (and wow, could he get any cuter), while Kurt told some anecdotes of life in the fashion industry, promising that his outfits were usually less, well, slept in.

“So do you usually invite random drunk men in to sleep in your bed, or was I just the exception?” Blaine simply laughed in response, shaking his head.

“Trust me, this was not a common occurrence. But, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation again, or even if you don’t, feel free to knock on my door. This might sound crazy, or presumptuous, but I actually quite enjoyed having you over, and I’d really like to spend more time with you.”

Kurt smiled to himself. he might just see himself taking Blaine up on that offer someday. When he finally stood up to go back to Santana’s apartment, hoping she was awake and decent enough to let him in, he couldn't help but leave a little piece of paper on the table behind him. On it was a phone number, and a small message

_I’ll be your teenage dream if i can wake up to that voice again xxx_

 

 


End file.
